


is it a matter of protection

by featherx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherx/pseuds/featherx
Summary: “Are you sure he isn’t going to bodily harm you?” Dimitri whispers, looking nervous enough for the rest of them. “Or—worse! Are you sure he isn’t going to burst into tears?”After the fall of House Nuvelle, Constance travels to Galatea first before the Garreg Mach monastery.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Constance von Nuvelle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	is it a matter of protection

**Author's Note:**

> for brindlefinch, from my fic giveaway! prompt: AU where, as the summary says, coco heads to galatea territory after house nuvelle falls and meets the faerghus four. this takes place when sylvain is 15 and the rest of them are 13 (before the tragedy of duscur, so glenn is still alive)
> 
> i don't usually write literally any of these characters so hopefully i got their personalities OK!! enjoy!

“Are you sure he isn’t going to bodily harm you?” Dimitri whispers, looking nervous enough for the rest of them. “Or—worse! Are you sure he isn’t going to burst into tears?”

Sylvain grins. “Come on, Your Highness, he’s stronger than that! Alright, come on, let’s go test it out.” Then, louder, “Felix! Come over here, I got something for ya!”

“Do _not_ listen to him,” Ingrid says, right away. She and Felix are splashing around in the water, although Felix is careful to stick to the shallower parts. Constance vaguely wonders if she can create a spell related to buoyancy, on the very likely chance they venture out to the lake again. “I bet he’s up to no good again! Aren’t you, Sylvain?”

“Oh, ye of little faith. Come on, it’s nothing bad, I promise! It’s actually _really cool._ ”

Felix’s eyes sparkle at the words _really cool,_ which is how Constance knows they’ve lost him. “What is it?” he asks, hurrying back to the riverbed; Ingrid grudgingly returns as well. He scrambles over to where Sylvain and Dimitri are standing near a large rock jutting out from the sand, fidgeting in clear excitement.

Ingrid, shaking her head, returns to Constance’s side under the shade of a large tree. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Well, if he still falls for that after all the times Sylvain has done something similar, it is really no longer anyone else’s fault but his,” Constance primly replies. She’d caught a glimpse at the Really Cool Thing Sylvain had been holding in his hands, and she can confidently say Felix should have just stayed in the water.

“Okay, close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Sylvain says, his grin growing wickedly wide when Felix obediently does so. “Aaand… here!”

Felix’s scream when Sylvain drops the sea cucumber in his palms could, Constance muses, probably have been heard halfway across the ocean.

Constance can’t quite remember why they’d decided to go out here, despite Count Galatea’s perpetual worrying about the five of them getting in trouble (as they often do); Sylvain had probably proposed the idea, Ingrid had probably gotten excited over the prospect of an adventure, and the other three, Constance included, were swept up in their antics. Before Constance had known it they had already gone through a forest and found themselves at a river at the edge of Galatea territory, further than they’ve gone without adult supervision before.

A little further and they’ll arrive at the base of the Central Church, Dimitri had pointed out. The same Church who hadn’t lifted a finger to help her when House Nuvelle had fallen, Constance had needed to keep herself from adding.

“You okay?” Ingrid asks, flopping onto the grass next to Constance; unlike her friend, Ingrid clearly has no qualms about getting dirt in places Constance hadn’t known dirt could even be in. “I know you don’t like the sun and all, but are you sure you don’t want to get in the water?” She even holds out the wide-brimmed straw hat she’s wearing, smiling eagerly.

Why does Ingrid have to go around being so _nice,_ especially to her? Constance hadn’t done anything to deserve that. Maybe it’s the sunlight making her think like this, so Constance does her best to swallow the words down and speaks clearly and properly rather than mumbling like she so wants to do, unbecoming though it may be. “No, I am quite alright here,” she says, tilting her chin up. “A true noble is expected to always be neat and clean, and certainly should not be prancing about in a muddy river! Also, I am afraid I did not even bring a spare set of clothes.”

Ingrid is quiet for a moment, and Constance hesitantly turns to face her to see contemplation on her face. “Yeah, no,” Ingrid mutters, almost too quiet for Constance to hear. Then, suddenly, she hops up to her feet and pushes the hat she had been holding atop Constance’s head. “You’re always going on about noble this and noble that, but this time I’m not having it! Since we’re already here, you have to get in the water!”

“What—no, wait, _Ingrid—_ ” Constance barely manages to secure the hat on her head before Ingrid is grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the river. Tiny pebbles fly up from their steps, and the tickle of blades of grass against their ankles is replaced by the shocking coldness of the water before Constance even knows it.

Ingrid lets go of her, thankfully enough, and whirls around to face her with a gleeful grin on her face. “So? It’s cold, right? Feels great in the heat! Want me to teach you how to swim?”

Constance’s first instinct is to run as fast as possible, while perhaps resorting to the classic battle technique of splashing water in Ingrid’s eyes to buy herself some time, but she can’t bring herself to say _no_ to Ingrid’s shining face. She tightens her grip on the hat—the sunlight beats down on them, but clouds are beginning to drift in, and it isn’t _that_ bad. Besides, Ingrid’s right—the water _does_ feel nice, especially after all the walking they had done had left her feet tired.

She clears her throat. “You _will not_ let me drown, yes?”

Predictably enough, they are all properly scolded for having gone off on their own and giving their parents heart attacks. But that hardly extinguishes the flame of exploration now burning brightly in Ingrid’s chest, as a little under a week later she suggests they explore Conand Tower next, when a meeting will leave their fathers blind to whatever it is the five of them choose to get up to.

“An abandoned tower?” Constance asks, when Dimitri points it out on the map for her. “What ever are you hoping to find there?”

“Think about it! A tower smack between Felix’s territory and ours!” Ingrid cries. Constance most certainly does not miss the little dance her heart does at the word _ours._ “There are always reports of bandits and thieves making that place their base or headquarters or something ‘til someone drives ‘em out. So there’s obviously a lot of treasure hiding in there!”

Sylvain examines the map with a critical look in his eyes Constance so rarely sees on him, before he leans back with a lazy grin. “It’s not too far from here either,” he says. “Shouldn’t be hard to get there and back before the day ends.”

“Ohh, but…” Felix frowns. “Ingrid just said it’s used by bandits… won’t it be dangerous?”

“Don’t be scared! We’ve all gotten tons better at fighting, haven’t we?” Ingrid asks. “His Highness is here too. And Connie even taught you and Sylvain how to cast magic!”

“Hm-hm, yes, I did,” Constance preens. “And I believe at the rate you two are learning, you may even stand a chance against me if you teamed up—”

“So we should definitely go!” Ingrid interrupts. Constance probably should have expected that. “Come on, you heard Sylvain. It shouldn’t take more than a day, and we’ll leave as soon as it gets too dangerous for us to handle. We’ll be fine, right?”

Felix still looks unsure. “Dimi, you’ll protect us, right?”

Dimitri grins. “Yes! Of course! That’s my responsibility, after all! Felix, you’ll be safe with me! Ah, and the rest of you too, of course! Maybe I should even try bringing Areadbhar along this time. Do you think Father will notice?”

Sylvain chokes on a laugh. “Your Highness, an entire Hero’s Relic missing? Yeah, I’m sure His Majesty won’t notice a thing.”

“Oh, wonderful! Then I must have some time to warm up for it tomorrow. It still takes quite a lot to carry it—”

“Wait, Dimitri, _no—_ ”

Ingrid turns to Constance, just in time for the chaos to start up behind her. “This is going to be just great,” she says, giddy and shaking in excitement. “And definitely a chance to show off our skills for real! It’s way too boring fighting against Kingdom soldiers who just let us win all the time!”

Constance smiles, but she can’t help asking, “Still, this _is_ going to be quite a bit more dangerous than a little romp in the river. Are you sure we’ll be alright?” Oh, if only there were some useful spell for instant communication across large distances, so that they could call for help if the need arose. Perhaps it falls to her genius mind to devise such magic? It sounds like a simply delightful challenge to tickle her brain.

“That just makes it _more_ exciting,” Ingrid says gleefully. Constance also probably should have expected that. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about that! His Highness and Sylvain and Felix are all going to be with us, _and_ I’ll protect you all the way.” She nods confidently, before her expression turns thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, I bet there’s going to be a lot of gold in the tower that was left behind by thieves or something. That could help you with restoring House Nuvelle, right?”

For some reason there’s a tiniest hint of skepticism in Ingrid’s voice, as if she doesn’t really believe what she’s saying, but the idea already has Constance in an iron grip that she waves it off as her imagination. Ingrid is _right—_ under Count Galatea’s care as she is, Constance has to find a way to pay back his kindness soon so she doesn’t find herself in debt in the future. And earning money now would be a great boon for her situation! Well, perhaps it doesn’t exactly count as ‘earning’ money, but it is a _start._

She smiles to herself, folding her arms over her chest. “Ingrid, you truly _always_ do come up with the best ideas.”

The escape from the estate goes by smoothly—this time it’s Dimitri’s turn to distract the guards, and while he isn’t as good at it as Sylvain is, they manage to get by somehow and meet up with him once they’re a safe distance away. “Now it should only be a half hour to get to the tower,” Sylvain says, though he isn’t even bothering to look at the map stowed in one of his coat pockets. “Everyone ready?”

Ingrid nods, grinning, her lance held tight in hand while a spare spear is strapped across her back; Dimitri follows soon after, Felix clinging onto his wrist. Constance runs through every spell she knows in her head three times, just in case, and fixes Sylvain with her best impatient glare. “What are we waiting for, then?”

The walk there is fine—there’s an established path, for one, which Constance cannot say for the forest they had visited last time—and it isn’t even sunny, clouds passing through the sky like how Constance had observed a local painter in Galatea work, slow and languid, brush strokes long and even. When they arrive at Conand Tower at exactly the right amount of time Sylvain had estimated, it almost feels like things are going along far too good to be true.

“Man, it’s even taller up close,” Sylvain sighs. “Hey, let’s just stick to the lower floors. No way are you gonna get me to climb all the way to the top.”

“But the top would be where all the _treasure_ is,” Felix argues, whispering _treasure_ like it’s some sort of taboo. He even glances around cautiously before saying it. “But, um, it’ll probably be dangerous… what if we fall off or something…”

“That won’t happen,” Dimitri reassures him. “Probably.”

Sylvain grins and waggles his hands. “Unless I nudge you when you’re not looking!”

“ _Sylvain._ ”

“Ignore ‘em,” Ingrid tells Constance. “We’re definitely going to the top. A tower this big means there’s gonna be lots of space for hidden treasure! Just stick close to me, and we’ll be fine!”

Constance nods. “Of course I will be by your side. Who else will help you?” she says, smiling proudly to herself. She’s seen Ingrid train, of course, right alongside the other three, but she’s fairly certain none of them have ever actually gotten into a real fight. Meanwhile… Constance feels her expression dim slightly. Her travel from Nuvelle all the way to Galatea had been far from free of combat. At least she can say she has the experience, although now she’s not sure if she prefers that.

 _No, no._ She mentally shakes her head. Any sort of experience is important experience. And with this experience, she can protect her friends, the people who so graciously took her in even when she had nothing to give them in return. “Shall we go, Ingrid?”

Ingrid blinks at her, like she had noticed that little lapse there, but excitement overtakes her once more and she grins wide. “Yeah, let’s!”

Unfortunately, Constance had vastly underestimated just how much climbing her body could take until inevitably crumpling—she starts breathing harder when they make it a little under halfway of the tower, and then she has to suppress the urge to crawl some five minutes later. Dimitri and Ingrid are still doing fine, with Dimitri humming (badly) and Ingrid even _skipping_ up the stairs, but Sylvain is pulling himself up through the handrail and Felix is panting too. At least she’s not the only one tired out, Constance reassures herself, and that she’s probably more normal than Dimitri and Ingrid are.

“Let’s… Let’s take a break,” Felix eventually gasps out. Judging by the rest of the stairs winding upwards still, they must only be a few floors left from the top. “Just for a sec, come on…”

Ingrid pouts, looking ready to protest, but she sighs and nods when she sees Sylvain next to Felix. She looks at Constance too, but surely Constance isn’t showing her weariness on her face, is she? Never mind how her brow feels slick with sweat and her cheeks are warm from exertion. “Okay. We’re almost there anyway, so a minute shouldn’t hurt.”

Dimitri beams, rummaging through his satchel. “Here, I brought snacks! Ingrid, Felix, you like rabbit skewers, right? Ah, and I have sweet buns for Sylvain, Constance, and I!”

“Your Highness came prepared,” Sylvain observes, though he accepts the offered sweet bun with a grin. “Well then, don’t mind if I do! How’d you sneak all these out from the kitchen, though? …Assuming you got them from the kitchen?”

Dimitri doesn’t respond, but his smile does grow in size. It now looks more menacing than angelic like earlier, so Constance only carefully takes the food from Dimitri with a murmured thank-you and examines the sweet bun at all possible angles to see if she can somehow pick out any hidden poisons or strange ingredients inside it. “Speaking of which, none of us are particularly good in cooking, are we?” Dimitri muses aloud. “Ingrid is only good at eating.”

“Hey! Y-Your Highness!” Ingrid cries, although it’s difficult to take her seriously when she’s already stuffed her mouth with the rabbit skewers.

Sylvain snickers. “And Constance is bad.”

“ _Bad_ bad,” Felix echoes.

Constance gasps. “What sort of insult is this? My magic has never once failed in improving a dish’s taste! You all simply do not possess intelligent enough taste buds.”

“Connie,” Ingrid says, slowly, “hate to break it to you, but… I think you’re the one with the weird taste buds here.”

“That can’t be! What’s the matter with food being a bit on the sweet side?” Constance harrumphs and folds her arms over her chest, amidst the other four’s giggling. “Hmph. One day I will find someone to back me up on this. Then you will all know.” Could a bias for sweets only be found among those in the Adrestian Empire as well? These Faerghans are all so uncultured.

Well… they may be uncultured, but they’re Constance’s uncultured friends. The thought brings a smile to her face, even as they continue talking about how there’s a limit to sweetness (utterly false, but as she had said, they will know). Her friends, who had chosen to be with her even when she had nothing… Will she ever be this lucky again?

Her thoughts and their chatter are cut off by a faint noise somewhere. Dimitri frowns. “What was that?”

“An animal, maybe?” Felix suggests, although there’s a tremble to his voice that hadn’t been present earlier. “There were a lot of rabbits and squirrels on the lower floors…”

“That was a footstep.” Sylvain’s voice is hard, and Constance briefly wonders how he had managed to recognize the sound, distant as it had been. Is he used to picking out the softest of noises? “Lower floor… damn, we have nowhere to escape. Let’s keep going up.”

Constance falters. “Up? But—”

“We can’t exactly jump out a window. On the off chance it’s just someone poking around below us, we’ll be able to avoid ‘em so long as we stay higher up.” Sylvain jerks his chin towards the stairs. “Come on. Try to keep your own footsteps quiet.”

He’s so uncharacteristically serious that Constance doesn’t dare argue again—they clean up quickly and head up the stairs, Ingrid and Constance at the lead while Sylvain brings up the rear, looking over his shoulder every once in a while. Dimitri and Felix are in the middle, with Felix clutching Dimitri’s arm again. “Hey, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dimitri whispers to the shaking Felix. “Let’s stay calm. Even if there’s trouble, we can all fight, can’t we?”

“But… I don’t want you to get hurt…”

“Well, that—”

“Hurry,” Sylvain hisses. “They’re moving up. I think they heard us earlier—”

“Well, well. What’s a bunch of brats doing somewhere so dangerous?”

The sudden voice shocks them all into motionlessness—partly because it had been completely unexpected, and partly because it had come from _above._ Constance looks up to meet the eyes of a tall, bulky man dressed in ragged clothing leaning on the railing, staring down at them with a lazy grin. There’s an axe slung across his back, and the edge of it gleams dangerously in the light from the windows. “Don’t you all know this place is off-limits?” he asks, resting his chin atop his palm.

Sylvain is the first to react, stepping forward slowly and stretching an arm to the side as if to shield Felix and Dimitri. “We’re not looking for trouble,” he says, keeping his voice steady and clear. How does he do that? Constance can’t even keep her own hands from shaking right now. “We’ll leave right away if you want us to. Is the guy below your friend too?”

The man—no, _bandit,_ he can’t be anything else—shrugs. “I dunno. Is he? I don’t have to answer your question, do I?” He reaches behind himself and grips the handle of his axe, slowly unstrapping it and snickering, probably at the looks on their faces. “Now, you all look like nobles. Am I right? Commoner kids don’t wear clothes like those.”

“S-S-Sylvain,” Felix whispers, “D… Dimi…”

“It’s okay, Fe,” Sylvain murmurs back, keeping his eyes on the bandit, “just stay close, and don’t panic—”

The man’s grin widens. “Here’s a question. Do you know how much little noble brats like you sell for on the black market?”

Faster than Constance’s eyes can follow, Sylvain throws his arms out before him and sends a Fire spell exploding in the man’s face—it’s sloppy and weak, Constance immediately notices, not unlike how Sylvain’s and Felix’s spells were when they first started training, but it does its distracting purpose well enough. “ _Run!_ ” he shouts, shoving the others behind him—Ingrid and Constance stumble, but Dimitri doesn’t so much as twitch, Felix behind him. “Hurry up and go down, if there are four of you, you can—”

“ _Gah—_ annoying little—” The bandit is already recovering, slapping the flickering embers off his arm and swinging his axe wildly around. But—no, wait, he hasn’t _recovered,_ Sylvain had aimed right for his eyes, and it’s obvious he can’t see anything still right now. “Where the hell—get over here, lemme cut ya down!”

Sylvain grins nervously. “Oh yeah? Try and get me!” And then he breaks away from their group without another glance, racing up the stairs as audibly as possible. “Over here, you big old idiot! How does it feel being taken down by a kid?”

“Wait, Sylvain!” Felix cries, letting go of Dimitri and running after Sylvain as well—Dimitri flails for a moment before following afterwards. The bandit is already stomping up the steps despite his blindness, tracking Sylvain’s taunts ahead of him. “Stop it—don’t go! Don’t—”

“That _idiot!_ ” Ingrid groans. “Come on, Connie, we gotta go after them!”

Constance swallows back the lump of nervousness in her throat and stumbles trying to catch up with Ingrid. No matter what, Ingrid will always be faster than her, it seems. “Wait, hold on, it—it might be dangerous! Proceed with more caution, Ingrid!”

“We don’t have time for caution! Let’s—”

A sound from behind grabs Constance’s attention, and then she’s barely thinking when she throws herself forward and tackles Ingrid to the ground, very nearly stabbing the both of them with Ingrid’s lance like a pair of skewered rabbits—the arrow that had been whizzing in from behind them flies harmlessly overhead, embedding itself into the wall on the other side. Someone clicks their tongue behind them. “Damn. You’ve got decent reflexes for a noble kid, eh?”

Constance hastily pushes herself up, standing in front of Ingrid—there’s another man behind them, dressed similarly to the bandit who Sylvain had lured all the way up to the top of the tower already, only this one is holding a bow and a quiver of arrows instead of an axe. “You…” She swallows again, clenching her fists to keep them from shaking too obviously. Earlier, when Sylvain had asked the first bandit if he knew ‘the guy below,’ there had been no hints of confusion on his face. They must be partners of some sort, then.

Ingrid picks herself up, holding her lance in front of her in what Constance recognizes as the textbook stance. “Stay back, Constance. I’ll—”

“No! I will not let you get hurt,” Constance interrupts, deciding she’ll simply have to apologize for her rudeness later. If she will still have a _later,_ some dark voice in her head mumbles. She tilts her chin up and faces the smirking bandit head-on, mustering every last bit of proud nobility she has in herself. “Foolish man. You will regret trying to take on I, Constance von Nuvelle!”

The bandit has the gall to look _entertained._ “Nuvelle, huh? You mean the fallen House in the Empire, right? Even I know about that, and I’m just some lowly little bandit you nobles have always stepped on.” He nocks an arrow languidly, not even bothering to look directly at Constance. “Let’s see how you fare against me, then, eh?”

He fires his arrow, and Constance counters with her own Sagittae spell, shooting out a flurry of magical arrows; she had thought in such a narrow space even its fairly low accuracy shouldn’t be a problem, but the bandit simply tuts and jumps back, avoiding them with ease. “Magic?” he scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. If that’s how you’ll play—”

He moves to nock an arrow again, and Constance readies a more sensible Fire spell to simply burn it before it can reach them—but she realizes too late that had been a feint when the bandit reaches for his belt and throws something sharp and very, very fast towards her, far too fast to dodge.

For a moment, Constance can’t move. _Is this it?_ she thinks, numbly. It’s a dagger, running straight for her chest. _Is this how it ends? I still have so much to do. My friends, I—_

Ingrid shoves her to the side.

Constance somehow manages not to topple right off the stairs, but that’s a _very_ close one, and she winces when the edge of her long skirt catches on a loose nail and rips the fabric, but at least she hadn’t fallen back down to the bottom of the tower, which she’s very much sure would have happened if Ingrid had used even the tiniest bit more force in that push. Wait, _Ingrid?_ “What are you—no!” she exclaims. Ingrid is shouting a battle cry as she rushes towards the bandit, her lance at the ready. “Ingrid, wait—” _I can’t let you get hurt, I can’t lose you, too—_

The bandit sneers. “Oh, right, there were two of you. Well then—”

But he doesn’t get to speak again; Ingrid’s lance pierces his thigh, the highest she can reach at her height, but she doesn’t stop there and she drives her weapon in deeper, probably far more than a lance is meant to go. The bandit chokes and sputters, grabbing her by her shoulder to push her off—Ingrid growls and yanks her lance out of his thigh, only to jump up and drive it straight into his stomach instead. “Don’t hurt my friends!” she shouts, right before swinging her lance, the bandit still on the other end, down the stairs.

He falls, rolling down the steps. Ingrid grabs the spear at her back and throws it at the perfect moment, the weapon’s point running straight through his chest.

It all happens so fast that Constance doesn’t even register it’s over until several long, silent seconds have passed and the man hasn’t gotten up again. Ingrid doesn’t bother retrieving her spear from the bandit’s chest; she’s panting heavily, still catching her breath, when she blinks and practically crumples at Constance’s side. “Connie! Are you hurt?” she asks, concern written all over her face. “No arrows got you, right? I’m sorry, I—I froze up for a moment, I was just so—”

“That,” Constance says, finally finding her voice, “was _indescribable,_ Ingrid. Just _where_ did you learn to fight like that? I have never seen the likes of it!”

Ingrid blinks again, now looking more confused than anything. “What? That was standard training for knights. You’ve seen me spar with the others hundreds of times—”

“The way you fought! The way you reacted, moved, attacked!” Constance leaps to her feet, pulling Ingrid up with her and clasping both of her hands in her own. “Simply stupendous! I am blown away! I wanted to protect you, but you ended up being the one protecting me, Ingrid!”

“Ah, well.” Ingrid’s cheeks are growing bright pink. Constance doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this embarrassed. “T-That… I appreciate the compliments, but… it’s only natural to fight when you want to protect someone!” she says, before Constance can speak again. “When I saw you in danger, I… my body seemed to move on its own. They say it’s like that for a lot of knights.”

Constance feels her own face fall a little. What had _she_ been able to do while Ingrid was fighting? After arrogantly declaring she’d protect her friend, she’d failed to even land a scratch on the bandit and had gotten herself into mortal danger as well, needing Ingrid’s help in the end. Constance can’t expect herself to be a worthy leader of the restored House Nuvelle if she remains this weak… she’ll have to grow and learn alongside Ingrid, to make sure she never falls short of her friend.

Oh? Speaking of House Nuvelle…

“I have an idea!” she cries. Ingrid jolts in surprise. “When I restore House Nuvelle, I would like to formally invite you to serve as a knight! No, no, not just _any_ knight—my personal knight! My second-in-command! The captain of the knights! Yes, your name will be revered, known far and wide for your courage and bravery!”

Ingrid looks confounded. “C-Constance, wait. It’s not that simple. I want to—”

“Why, I can just about see it now,” Constance preens, letting go of Ingrid to twirl in place. “The famed lady knight, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, and the new Viscountess Constance von Nuvelle at her side! We will be an unstoppable force. We will turn Fodlan upside down through our countless noble and chivalrous feats!”

“Uh. Constance? Are you even listening anymore?”

There’s a strange expression on Ingrid’s face, one Constance doesn’t think she’s ever quite seen before: it looks like an odd mix of hesitation, confusion, and unsureness. Just as she calms herself down and opens her mouth to ask what is wrong, footfalls resound from above. “Constance, Ingrid!” Dimitri calls, waving down at the both of them. “Come up here! Everything’s okay now!”

Oh, right, they’d gone up, hadn’t they? Constance decides to save the rest of this conversation for later and tugs on Ingrid’s wrist to head upstairs with her. “You have taken care of the other bandit as well? How did it go?”

“Oh, well…” Dimitri rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You know, we all worked together. Anyway, it’s fine, we’re all safe. Felix is still a bit shaken up, but he’ll be alright soon. But! At the top floor…”

Ingrid’s eyes widen, and Constance remembers the whole reason they had gone to this tower in the first place. “Could it be?”

“Yes!” Dimitri beams once more. “It’s not a lot. But there’s all sorts of interesting items scattered about! We should collect as much as we can and look over all of them back home. Come, let’s hurry!”

He hurries back up the stairs to the top, where Constance can hear Sylvain’s and Felix’s voices drifting down. She grins to herself, looking beside her at Ingrid, who looks similarly excited. “Shall we?” Constance asks. “We must speak about you serving as a knight some other time, of course!”

For some reason, a flicker of hesitation crosses Ingrid’s expression once more. But then she nods and says, “Alright, later,” and laughs as she runs up the stairs with Constance by her side, so Constance pushes that detail to the back of her head.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/featherxs)


End file.
